Home Again
by PippinStrange
Summary: And interlude between 'What are you going to call me? A Mary Sam' and the sequel. Nate has been on earth for years now, changes are taking place. Nate is in a big explosion and suddenly the earth looks...kind of like Middle Earth. Chapter Five finally up!
1. You Cannot Run from Your Problems

**Hey everyone! Here is my sequel to _What are you going to call me? A Mary Sam? _Which I know is what you're all hoping to find much happier than the ending of the last story. If you haven't read the above title first, don't bother reading this once, or it won't make any sense. Please read the last one, then this one. It'll all work out them. **

**READ AND REVIEW!!!! (I'm a sucker for reviews).

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**AN: This is actually not the REAL sequel. This is an interlude between the sequel and _Mary Sam.

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**Chapter One, You Cannot Run From Your Problems**

"What do you mean, you flunked your Algebra class?" roared the middle-aged, disheveled father. "What was the dad-blasted summer school for last summer, then? Tell me that? Why is there an F on this paper? Speak to me!"

The small figure slumped onto the couch. "Dad, please, please don't shout at me."

"I am NOT SHOUTING! I'm merely upset! What father wouldn't be upset if his son failed something incredibly easy?"

"Algebra 2 is not easy, Dad…"

"You're girlfriend Lindy seemed to pass without so much as batting an eye!"

"She's really smart, Dad. And she is not my girlfriend. I just…really, really, like her. And that's beside the point."

"Nathan, I cannot abide it with you lying all the time--"

"Lying? For Heaven's sake, Dad, what'r you talking about?"

"Deary," said the mother, looking distraught. "Perhaps if we took a few moments to cool down, and discuss this later."

"I don't need time to cool down!"

Nate sighed and passed a hand over his eyes. "And you certainly don't need any more time to heat up. Mom, let's go."

"Don't be disrespectful!" his father roared, stomping his foot. "Wait, where are you going?"

"I have a doctor's appointment! And my car broke down again, so Mom is giving me a ride. Do you have a problem with that?" Nate slammed the door.

"Let's talk about this later," hissed his mother.

"Be sure to tell him he's grounded," he growled in reply.

----

Nate put his hand on the car door.

"Wait, hon," said his mother urgently. "I…I just want to say, that I think you're father is overreacting. I'll talk with him, okay?"

"Whatever. It's not going to work, Mom. It never does."

She sighed. "Call me when you're done."

The car door slammed in reply.

---

"Now," said the doctor. "Put this over your left eye, and read the sign, please?"

"A, F, B, G—wait—R? Um. Anyways. Nice sign. S, J, K…"

----

"_I AM mental," I said seriously. "But not dangerously. I have a condition called ADD."_

"_Add?" Gandalf said stupidly, like he was talking about a math problem._

"_No, A-D-D," I said. "It's nothing dangerous. It just makes it really hard for me to concentrate on things—like books—while sitting for long amounts of time. And random things pop into my head, and I generally say them out loud."_

_The council was rather silent. Okay…so now I was embarrassed. If that could sign a paper that said I couldn't go—well, consider it signed._

Funny what memories come back.

_----_

"How did it go?" asked Lindy sweetly.

"Lindy, the doctor said something that's…well, gonna change a lot…"

"Nathan? Do you have cancer?"

"No. It's going to change a lot for the better, Lindy."

"Oh. Good. Spit it out."

"I'm dyslexic."

"And that's good HOW?"

"Lindy, my dad _got down on his knees and asked for my forgiveness. _He thought I was just being lazy. It…it never occurred to him that I was being completely truthful when I said I couldn't read the blasted textbook!"

"Oh. Well. That's great about your Dad, Nate. Hmmm…well…in that case….Yippee!!!!!"

----

_It was a better day today, and for once, I actually have time to write in my journal. I still can't believe I saw my own Dad on his knees, crying, and asking me to forgive him. Once…a long time ago…someone really, really wise said I had to stop running from my problems here at home. It feels so much better, writing all this, and feeling like some bad things are going to change for good. I've still got some things to take care of. But thank God, today was a start. _

_Maybe someday I'll return to…well, I won't write it here. Someone may find this someday and think I was insane. But…they wouldn't be the first! So whatever!_

_I wonder every day, I've wondered for the past year…if I'll ever return to Middle Earth.

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**READ AND REVIEW!!! OR SOMETHING BAD WILL HAPPEN TO YOU! (jk)**_


	2. Yay For Grads!

**Wow, everyone, thanks for your kind reviews. Certainly no thanks to Flames Rising, however. I do not listen to people who cannot speak politely and respectively—and he certainly got his point across, but I don't care.**

**I will ask this: don't let Flame Rising's review guide your opinions of me, please. Form them for yourself. **

**Please enjoy this chapter, some more "time passing" will occur, according to a timeline I'm working out, a believe a day or two has gone by in middle earth, while an entire year has gone by for Nate since the introductory chapter where he "gets right" with his Dad.

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**PS:**

**(I certainly don't think Christians are better than everyone else. Some of the nicest people I know aren't Christians. I still love everybody. Oh yes! That includes Flame Rising! Love him too! And that's only because I have a great guy like Jesus being my example)**

**God Bless, **

**The Pippinator!

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**Chapter 2, Yay for Grads…**

Nate shivered as he crept across the stage, the gown feeling scratchy.

_I'm really doing this…_he thought. _After all those stupid classes, stupid grades, and those special ed stuff…I'm actually wearing this…uh…dress thingy with a really cool hat! And you know what that means!_

"Congratulations," said the principle, handing him a roll of paper tied with a red ribbon.

Nate pumped his fist, shouting, "YES!" which startled the principle and made the audience laugh.

After the last of them had gotten the diploma, they moved the tassles to the other side of their caps, and then threw them in the air for good measure. Everyone was talking at once, it all felt surreal, like the moment when someone is dunked underwater and sound becomes mute and time is at a rush, and yet slow.

_Now I have to start all over again…_Nate shook hands all 'round and let his tearful mother hug him close. _College! Yippee! And then after that, jobs…and maybe marriage!_

He glanced at Lindy out of the corner of his eye. She was laughing and showing off the diploma. Someone accidentally knocked her cap off her head, and she put it back, crookedly. Her boyfriend kissed her cheek.

Nate cringed and looked away. They were voted cutest couple junior year—all those years ago—the September after his Summer Adventure, as he came to call it. The time he went to Middle Earth had ignited his feelings for her, and the return to real Earth suppressed them. It became harder and harder for them to like each other while being such good friends in a big, big world. Finally they called it quits—but Nate had done it for her. He knew she wanted to move on. He wanted her to be happy. With her being happy, it almost made him happy too. It was half-hearted.

Lindy ran to Nate and gave him a hug. "We did it, BFF," she giggled.

Nate looked at her, startled. "That was so corny!"

Lindy stuck out her lower lip. "But you know you still love me!"

"But of course, pipsqueak." _More than you'll ever know. _

----

Coming home to a quiet house a strange feeling. His mother was still gushing over how lovely the ceremony had been, his father had offered a shy congratulations and shook his hand—then told him he was proud of him. He certainly had improved. Being a good father had not come naturally, but he tried. Nate appreciated it more than he could express in words.

For some reason, the house felt almost unfamiliar to him—walking inside a new person, a new chapter of life beginning—he walked into the kitchen and pulled a Mountain Dew out of the fridge, noticing the mornings mail sitting on the counter.

On top was an envelope with his name on it.

_From the University of Justice and Anti-Crime_

_Dear Nathanial,_

_Congratulations! You'll be pleased to hear that we were very impressed with your application. Your essay about overcoming the odds and your passion for justice was very good, just the sort of thing we are looking for here at the J A C. You are accepted to our university and another packet will be sent…_

Nate dropped the letter, then picked it up again. He finished reading it, then reread it.

"So," his dad said easily, walking in casually. "I know everyone has been asking this, but, do you have any idea what you want to do now, son?"

"Yes," said his mother, appearing. "You've been very secretive about what it is you want to do. You promised you'd tell us very soon."

"Where to you want to go to college?" asked Dad again, leaning against the counter. "Do you want to do accounting? Marketing? Maybe be an attorney?"

"Well, Mom, Dad," Nate hid the letter behind his back and shrugged nonchalantly. "Looks like I'm going to be a policeman."

His mother sank to the floor. "Oh…I…"

"Put your head between your knees," said Dad, laughing.

Nate handed them the letter. "I was accepted to my first university of choice. They liked my impressive grades and passion for justice. I'll get to carry a gun!"

For Nate, and most boys, that sounded very exciting.

"Oh!" cried his mother again.

"And I'll arrest people!"

"Gracious!"

"Dad, I could give you a ticket…you know you drive too fast!"

"Um…"

----

The room looked empty now that he had packed all his clothes and items he'd need for living in the spacious dorm. But he left one thing sitting on the drawers—a silver chained necklace with a green stone—covered with dust and forgotten.

He grabbed it and put it around his neck. He felt rather complete—like he could conquer anything _or go anywhere.

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**Sorry so short my dears! Send me nice reviews please! DON'T SEND ANY STINKING FLAMES! Love you! God bless! **


	3. Man in Black

**Hey everyone, sorry it took so long! I've been busy with my fiction comedy/romance story of a college girl and a British actor who became a Christian that fall in love with each other. Kind of a take on Pride and Prejudice, Jake/Miley from Hannah Montana, and my own originality. I think you'd all like it. The main character, Riley Wood, has a wacky sense of humor that may remind you of a certain someone… :-) If it's ever published…….I'd tell all of you my real name! He he! **

**Love,**

**Pip!

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**This chapter is rated T for drug references—but it's all on the right side of the law. The FBI are going to break up a drug ring.

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Anything in relation to LOTR belongs to King Tolkien. Everyone and everything else belongs to ME--well, except Oregon.

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**Chapter Three, Man in Black**

The rain poured down relentlessly on the small group of men, standing on an abandoned sidewalk beside a heavy black van. To any normal civilian, used to that section of town, they would assume it was a drug deal or a few juvenile delinquents listening to the devil's music.

They were clustered around Agent Richfield, who, in reality, was not giving them drugs or stolen ipods—but giving them last minutes instructions for their upcoming adventure.

"Why did you bother changing your major?" one agent hissed to shorter, stockier man of roughly twenty-four.

"I didn't want to be an average, small-town cop waving street warnings," the short one replied. "Your major sounded like a lot more what I was looking for. The federal bureau of investigation seemed a perfect profession."

"Either way, you get to stand in the rain."

"James. Repeat after me—the cup is half full, the cup is half full, the cup—"

"Nathan?" Richfield snapped.

"Yes sir?"

"You about ready?"

"Ready as ever!" Nate checked the tape recorder, the Morse code device in his shoe, and, his personal favorite, guns.

"Sir?" said the throaty voice of Samuel King. "Are you sure we should send in the rookie? This is a pretty tough—"

Nate frowned at his words. _Rookie, indeed. Youngest guy on the team, but one of their best. Why else do I keep getting chosen? They need me, and he knows it._

"Nathan can handle this," Richfield motioned for the other agents to join him in the van—complete with the sound system, monitors, and the like.

"Remember, Rookie," Samuel tried to sound like he was offering professional advice, but Nate knew that it was coating a pre-reprimand. "No moves until you _see _the powder. We have to see the drugs before we prove it, 'kay?"

"Yes, King," Nate said patiently. "I am going to jump the guy, tell him he has the right to remain silent, and he's only trying to sell me flowers. Uh huh."

"The flower shop is only their cover job," King shook his head at him.

"Well, if we arrest him," Nate adopted his famous mischievous grin. "Can I take some flowers home to my wife?"

"Absolutely not!"

"You don't HAVE a wife," James interjected.

"Darn it," Nate fitting the dirt sweatshirt as part of his guise over the badge hidden beneath the coat lapel. "Let's go."

"Positions," Richfield called.

The men in black dispersed down the steaming alleyways and flooded sidewalks.

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Nate knocked on the door of the flower shop, making sure the recorder was on.

A withered, nervous looking man of fifty-five, average, trotted to the door and mouthed, "We're closed."

Nate shook his head, tapped his pocket, and let him see the corner of a green paper. The man guessed it to be a large sum, presumably. Stakeouts had told the FBI that this was a typical signal for people that always exited—with the lack of flowers.

The man nodded, looking somewhat suspicious, and unlocked the door. "We're not selling flowers at this time," he said, locking the door behind him. "Are you looking for something else?"

"Certainly not magnets," Nate said coolly, noting the counter display. "And not flowers, either. Do you have something else? Something that might cheer me up other than bright"—he tapped one—"and plastic flowers?"

"Who referred this place?" the man asked, pretending to be confused.

Nate leaned forward, patting his pocket again. "Quinn Jackson? You know the guy?" Quinn Jackson was a teenager who turned himself in for possession of pot and cocaine, and confessed he had been to this particular flower shop to buy some. He had been a regular customer and was well liked by the crime rings—he stole money from his rich parents to pay beyond the set price. Quinn was now attending rehab—and church—and was more than cooperating with the FBI division in Oregon.

"Ah, Quinny," the man fell into a normal attitude immediately. "Hasn't been in here in a while, but anyone referred by him is okay. Good kid—knows his stuff."

"What can I get here?" Nate asked.

"Blunt terms or coded?"

"Blunt, so I know what I'm getting, dude. No funny business."

"Course not! We take care of our own. What is it you're wanting, exactly?"

Nate pretending to think deeply for a moment. "How about five ounces of marijuana?"

"That little?"

"Make it six ounces. It's my birthday."

The man smiled deeply. "And the price?"

"Is five hundred dollars too much?"

"Generous, like our Quinny."

"Good service, good payment. But I gotta see it first."

The man bristled, slapping Nate's jacket, feeling for weapons. An upper body suit concealed the revolver. He relaxed. "And you'll see it."

The man went into the back room. Nate tapped his foot on the ground—impatiently—but at the same time, sending Morse code signals to prepare the head honcho.

_Man getting drugs. Get ready. Can't remember how to do the first letter of –uin's name. that one kid that referenced us. Quinn! That's what it was! He bought the Quinn deal. Darn, we ought to use Q more often, it's getting harder to remember. _

"Here you go," the man stood six feet from Nate, the bulge of a gun in his pocket, waving the clear Ziploc bag of weed. "See it? Now I need to see the money!"

Nate pulled five one-hundred dollar bills from his pocket. "Here's the cash. Trade ya!"

They traded. Nate pretending to stomp in excitement, examining the bag. It was real marijuana, all right, the devil's plant itself.

The stomp signaled the agents.

They swarmed in quickly, breaking through the front and back door, dropping through a loose skylight, breaking through the front window.

The man blanched, reaching for the bulge in his pocket.

Nate leapt forward, knocking him flat onto the ground, pinning his hands. "Gotcha," he said. "Can I have my money back?"

The man spit into his face and let out a string of curses.

"My ears!" wailed Nate.

They flipped the man over, disarmed him, and handcuffed his wrists.

"Still like your major?" James uttered dryly, putting evidence in his bags.

"Undoubtedly," Nate smiled. "We got one kid in church, a criminal in jail. What's not to love?"

"The rain?" James tried.

"We saw more rain in Hollin and Lorien than two of Oregon," Nate shook his head.

"Where's Hollin?" asked another officer casually.

"Canada," Nate said quickly, just as James shouted "Mexico," at the same time.

"Mexico?" Nate laughed outright.

"What made you think of Canada?" James sighed.

"Inside joke?" tried Nate.

"I will never understand you two…" the officer sighed.

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**Well everyone! Told you Nate would be a great cop/agent! Hope you liked! READ AND REVIEW POR FAVOR! **


	4. Held Hostage

**Dear Reviewers, **

**Aw, thanks for the supporting, very kind comments! They are much appreciated! This chappie will show a much more serious side of the adult (er, young adult, kid at heart) Nate, and how the life of the FBI agent isn't just catching the bad guys—it can also be arriving too late and having to track the guilty one. This chapter is also rated T, but for extreme drama and some violence. **

**Pip**

**PS: Please don't go see the new movie, Zodiac. Way too violent and scary. (The wikipedia article about the real Z Killer gave me nightmares! And I NEVER get nightmares—ever! Pray for that guy! He has major mental issues!!) Anyways, normally I can't rest well till I get my dreams on paper, and since it involves the FBI, I'm writing about Nate going after…you guessed it…a bad guy. (based on my dream, not the Zodiac K)

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**Chapter Four, Held Hostage**

The sirens were blaring. Nate gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white, sweat pouring down his head. His partner, Kelly Moore, turned the dispatch up louder.

"All units to Kingsbury Neighborhood, house 433, Heart Street. Hostage—mother and child—danger of weapons unknown."

"Are you going to be okay?" Kelly tapped the floor nervously.

"I don't know!" Nate let the tears slide down his face. "It's okay, I can do my job. But this is personal."

"I understand."

"Kelly, dear, you don't. Normally we protect people we don't know. I know these people. I love them…I trust them with my life…" Nate wiped his face and sped up. "This time I'm as much as a victim as they are…emotionally, I mean."

"It's okay, Nathan. Don't try to explain. Just get us there."

Her pager went off. "Moore," she said. "Richfield—what's the deal? You're there already? Okay. Got it."

"Spill," Nate whirled around another corner, narrowly missing a parked car in a no-park zone.

"Mother and child in house, a man—presumably drunk and armed—is threatening to shoot them if they don't give him _The Letter. _They think it's a mistaken identity, wrong house, or mental insanity. He says if the cops come too close, he'll kill them both."

_Oh Lindy. My precious, best friend Lindy…_Nate couldn't imagine her terror—trapped in a house with a man wanting to kill her and her baby girl. That baby girl was one of the cutest he knew, called Natalie, after him and Lindy's husband's grandmother. Natalie couldn't pronounce _Nathan, _and in the cutest four-year-old way, called him _Uncle Naked. _

"Mr. Forester? Lindy's husband?" Nate asked, seeing other cars gathered at the end of the block. He turned off the siren.

"At work, but he's on his way—about ten minutes away."

_Anything can happen in ten minutes! It only takes a second for two deaths to occur!_

"How did you know this Lindy?"

"First love—junior year of high school. She's my best friend." Nate choked and slammed on the brakes. "We're here. Get to Richfield, I'll get your stuff."

Kelly hopped out and ran over to their boss, hiding behind groups of vans.

Nate soon joined her.

"We've got a hostage negotiator in there now," Richfield sounded relieved. "The man is apparently crazy or drunk. He told her if he could get his meds, he wouldn't feel so mean, and everyone could go home. But he can't remember what the meds are. He could be high, too."

"Who's in there?"

"Catherine. The best we've got. She's been chatting with him—about pets and their favorite movies—for over two minutes. We're making progress. Luckily, he's waving the gun around less. He's relaxing. But we're just lucky enough that Cathy got in there without getting shot."

"Gun? Bombs?"

"Just an old revolver, looks like one from an antique store. We can't take any chances, but we're getting ready to break in the back door now."

"Positions?"

"Man has back to kitchen, facing living room, standing in entry way. Cathy is sitting in the entry. Mrs. Forester is on the left side of the living room, the kid on the other."

"I can get in!" Nate hissed excitedly. "I can get in! Cellar door—its an old farmhouse, one of the last left in this new, urbanized neighborhood. It goes right down to the basement. The basement door opens right into the dining room—that gives you a clear view of the entry and protection from gunfire. Let me do it. I'll do it."

"Risky."

"Isn't that what this job is about?"

"Give Cathy one more minute, then we'll take your plan."

The minutes passed.

Nathan heard baby Natalie scream.

Silence.

"He scared her," Richfeild put a hand on Nathan's shoulder. "She's okay. Cathy sent us the Morse. They're on the subject of Halloween scares—now's the time."

Nathan nodded. _Time to move in._

The basement was musty. Nathan fought the urge to sneeze and put a gloved hand over his mouth and nose. He crept to the door. It was open—barely.

He knew it creaked. He'd forgotten it.

"I never gambled," said the voice of the man. He seemed to be calming down, Nathan could hear Cathy endlessly chatting away.

"I like a game of poker here and there," she replied.

"Where's Lance?" shouted the man, pointing his gun down Nathan's left towards the bedrooms. "WHERE'S LANCE? I can't find Lance! He was supposed to be there—he never came! He failed!"

"Lance isn't here," Cathy said calmly. "I know its frustrating, but don't worry, if he's done something we can say is illegal, we'll get him."

"I'd prefer strangling him myself!" shouted the man.

"Better let us do it. That way you can stay out of trouble and he'll get what he deserves."

"How do you know what Lance deserves?"

"Dude, I'm with the FBI. I like to pretend I'm omnipresent."

The man actually laughed—it turned to a hoarse cough. Nathan smelled alcohol. The man was still coughing. He doubled over, coughing as if his lungs were going to fall out.

Nathan moved the door, the creak overcome by the sound of his coughing.

"Well ain't that funny," the man laughed. "I might as well kill ALL of you now! You ain't even got the letter! Maybe Lance has it—only I can't find him! And I've searched high and low! If only I had my meds…"

"I've got some," Cathy offered. "You want some?"

"I ain't falling for that!" the man turned his back towards Nathan.

Nathan slipped out and began running towards him.

"Uncle Naked!" whispered little Natalie.

"Who?" the man turned around, just as Nate collided with him, his wrist grasping the revolver. The man pulled the trigger one—two—three—times. The shots rang in his ears, the baby was screaming. The room was swarming with people.

There was another shot. Another scream.

Nathan couldn't concentrate—all he could think of was his friends safety—and getting his hand around that gun. He was bleeding. Everything was movement, screams, and blood.

"CLEAR!" shouted an officer.

"You have the right to remain silent," said one.

"Medic!" yelled another.

"I'm okay," Nate gasped, pulling himself up and crawling away, watching as another agent handcuffed the man. "I'm fine! Leave me alone!" he struggled to his feet and ran. Little Natalie reached him first, clutching his leg and crying. Nate scooped her into his arms. "Are you hurt? Baby girl? Uncle wants to know if you have any 'owies'!"

"No, no owie," Natalie said, sniffling. "Uncle owie!"

"Yes, Uncle has owie," Nate said. "But it's a baby owie. Owie doesn't hurt." Natalie poked his shoulder where the jacket was turning dark with blood.

"OKAY," Nate gasped. "Owie hurts a little. Let me see Mama?"

"Mama!" called Natalie.

Lindy was already making her way towards them. Nathan put Natalie down and pulled Lindy into his arms. "Are you alright?"

"I think so," Lindy sounded like she was having a hard time breathing. She scooped Natalie up and let her snuggle against her neck. "I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry."

"For what?"

"This," Lindy put a tentative hand on his shoulder.

"Don't _touch_ it!" Nate winced. "Okay—enough mush. They took the bad man away, Natty hon. Stop saying 'pow'. Daddy's home." He took her gently from Lindy's arms.

Mr. Forester barged into the living room, a six foot plus giant with loads of muscle, and gathered his petite wife in his arms and didn't seem to care he could break a rib if he wanted to. Lindy let her tears loose. Nothing could be heard but her sobbing and his deep voice reassurances.

"Daddy!" squeaked Natalie. Nate passed her over to her Father's arms. Mr. Forester kissed her tiny little face three times.

"Nathan, thank-you," Nate realized Mr. Forester was speaking. He shook his hand. "There is no one else who could have done this. I'm so glad you're a part of this family."

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_Part of this family…_

Nate mused over his words as he sat in his bachelor's apartment—in a great need of housecleaning—a combination of old furniture and lots of books. There was a cat box in the corner, but due to the neighborhood dog, there was a lack of cat. Nate particularly missed the pile of fuzz right now. He always missed his cat the night after a big holdup or stressful situation. Considering he'd never dealt with it in a personal situation, he felt drained. He wanted something to cuddle with. Or someone just to chill with.

"James?" he flipped open his cell phone and put it on speed dial.

"What?" James sounded cranky, as usual.

"Good evening to you, too! You wanna meet someplace for a beer?"

"I thought you didn't drink beer," James said dryly.

"Give me a break, I'm just trying to sound manly. Just shoot me while I'm down while your at it."

"I thought you never drank at all!"

"It hurts, stop," Nate complained.

"In fact, you never drank because you knew what drinking could do to you, and plus, Jesus encourages us to—"

"I take communion!"

"That's grape juice, you dork." James sighed. "Let's go fishing tomorrow."

"FISHING?"

"Yeah. You know. The great outdoors—that's manly enough for you. I thought you liked that kind of stuff."

"Legolas did the fishing."

"Did he now? I swear you did the fishing. You seemed to drag us right out of the Anduin that one time at school."

"How many times has Lindy reminded you? That was the _Isen _River."

"Whatever."

There was a brief silence.

"Actually, fishing sounds nice," Nate commented.

"Four o'clock to early for you?"

"Dude, Helm's Deep lasted all night. Nothing is too early for me. But can you cast my line? The doctor says I shouldn't bother my arm too much."

"What'd you do? Run over it?"

"The bullet skimmed me--barely."

"Just this once."

"You're a pal!"

"Oh, shutup!"

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Hey everyone! Hope you liked this chapter! This may be the last chapter in the interlude story. There might be one more—who knows.**

**So, yeah, I have two really funny trivia for this chapter.**

**1-----One of my very good friends had an Uncle Nathan. When she was little, she had a hard time pronouncing Nathan, and she called him Uncle Naked. Now we all call him Uncle Naked even though he doesn't know us and it's really funny. Hence the inspiration for this story. **

**2------Lance is a real person. He was supposed to meet a choir after Creation Fest and never did. The story spread and we've been looking for Lance ever since. If we have a spare moment and really feel like bugging people, we'll start yelling and looking for "Lance". Another friend of mine was getting very annoyed by the whole choir looking for Lance. "I swear, I'm going to KILL HIM!" A girl buddy of mine, the inspiration for "Leyli" in the Narnia Story, (who can see her pic on my homepage) said briskly, "Well, you've gotta FIND him first! And good luck with that, cuz we've been looking forever and we CAN'T find him!" **

**Anyways, though you'd enjoy those. **

**By the way! Wear green this week! St. Patty's day is coming up! And I'm Irish so…well…that's not exactly a good reason to wear green…but…**

**I know! Wear green…or review! Or both, if you like! Read and Review!!!!**


	5. Dude, Don't Steal Galadriel's Necklace!

**It's the moment you've all been waiting for! Yippee! He's back and ready for…well, a toothbrush, maybe, or some bubble gum. Okay, so for the MOST part, Nate is back and ready for action!**

**God Bless!**

**Pip

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**Chapter Five, Dude, don't steal Galadriel's necklace!**

The ground squelched under his feet. It was hard to walk on. Good thing he wore the boots today…good thing he brought his gun, too. Wait—where's the gun?

He checked his pocket. No!

Or…maybe his holster? No, not there either…

_Nathan, you dork. It's in your left hand. _

Nathan straightened his shoulders and attempted to peer through the window—someone had hung a black blanket to block any view.

The swampy grounds around the warehouse provided extra protection for the political extremist determined to make the first, homemade nuclear weapon. They'd tried to stop him. He disappeared, leaving them hints that he wasn't only going to make nuclear weapons—but that he was going to test them in his neighborhood. They'd only just found the warehouse where he planned to make them a few weeks after being put on America's Most Wanted list. Rumor had it he was wanted for attempted kidnapping, but there was no proof.

"MOVE IN, MOVE IN!" Richfield's voice came over the radio.

Nathan jumped to his feet, threw himself through the window, and covered his face to avoid blinding from the shattered grass. _Crap, it's a dugout, _he thought about fifteen feet from the floor. He slammed into the concrete—hard—and rolled out of sight under the large, metal shelves. It looked like a Home Depot after closing. _This guy has been planning his whole life… _Nathan shivered, remembering an email intercepted by the police that read, "Bin Laden is my role model…"Anyone like that was someone who needed serious help. And handcuffs. A grandmother! And llamas!

_Focus, you idiot. Now is not a good time for ADD. What? What was that? Oh. No one was speaking. Drat, you stupid Nate-punk-face-whatchimacallit, why'd you even join the FBI? Well, window insurrance might have been more profitable...hey look, a shelf! It looks like a turtle! Well, okay, not really, but..._

Nathan crawled under the shelf till he reached the end of the aisle, looking around. "Still—no sign—suspect," he breathed heavily, a piece of glass embedding itself in his forehead. He plucked it out and threw it to the side. "Position?"

"South, shooter to south!" someone shouted.

"He's got a gun," Nathan informed Richfield, scrambling out and running down a cool, empty, gray hall. The shelves of pipes, boxes, bottles, and more stretched to the top of the thirty foot ceiling.

Nathan rounded the corner and collided with a man. The man fell back, surprised, and tried to point his gun. Nathan threw himself on top of him and punched him in the face, grabbing his wrist and trying to shake the revolver from his grip. His hand got caught in the necklace around Nathan's neck—the green stone plinked against the metal of the weapon. Nathan jerked, the necklace fell back against his chest. The man kept fighting.

"Dude, don't steal my necklace!" Nathan hollered. The man twisted, nearly breaking Nate's arm. He had to let go of his wrist.

"Twenty-four's got 'em!" shouted another.

"Hold him, Nate!"

The wild-eyed, white-haired man pulled the trigger.

An explosion knocked Nathan nearly six feet away, slamming him into a wall. He collapsed, unconscious, in a black world. He felt immediately wide awake, as if the delirium were reality. He could feel himself moving, the ground was soft. _Not the hospital again! I swear, why do I always get to take the falls? I'm sick of this place. They are obsessed with white. I never want to see the color white again! Eew! At least I'm not under the turtle shelf anymore. I hope they didn't lose my necklace._

It started to rain.

The trees were moving in a harsh, chilled breeze.

Nathan didn't know whether to feel shocked, happy, upset, or utterly confused. He'd given up years ago at ever coming back. He thought they'd given up on him for good.

But Middle Earth it was, one and the same, and it was spread before him like a green carpet, with Emyn Muil bordering the sky and the glimmer on Minas Tirith miles and miles away.

"Woot woot," Nathan muttered dryly, wondering where his companions were and what Age it was. Perhaps all his old friends were dead. Maybe it was the next generation. Maybe Middle Earth had begun manufactoring automobiles. Maybe now, they weren't being bothered by orcs--maybe they were being bothered by aliens!

"Well," Nathan checked himself all over. "At least I've got my gun and ammo!"

* * *

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